Love Me When I'm Gone
by tearbos
Summary: This is my alternate ending to "Revenge". I suggest reading that first. This has no bearing on the sequel.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note**: I realize that most of you won't like this story, and I apologize in advance. I appreciate any feedback; whether you love or hate it I'd like to know. This is how I originally wanted to end "Revenge" and I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. It was a bit too long to add on, so I'm posting it here as three chapters. It picks up from Chapter 7 after Alex enters Reid's apartment.

Warnings: Tissue Alert! That's all I'll say.

* * *

Reid awoke to the sound of his front door closing. He sighed with relief at the thought of Morgan returning with his prescription. Throbbing pain ran down his arm and his head ached. He sat up slowly and carefully, only to find himself looking at a stranger with cold, blue eyes-familiar eyes. He jumped up in surprise and the room spun around him. Reid grabbed the arm of the couch to steady himself. "Who are you?" He demanded. "What are you doing here?" He cautiously went toward his cell phone on the coffee table.

The stranger didn't speak as he walked quickly in Reid's direction. He moved out of the man's reach, but the pain and antibiotics hampered his reaction time. The man grabbed Reid around the throat with both hands and forced him back onto the couch. The stranger straddled him, effectively pinning Reid's good arm to his side. The angry eyes bore into his as the man shifted his grip and removed one hand. Reid tried to scream during the slight relief of pressure on his windpipe, but the stranger covered his mouth, digging his fingernails into Reid's jaw and cheeks.

"I want you to know that you brought this on yourself. If you'd just kept your mouth shut this would all be unnecessary." The confusion must have been apparent in Reid's eyes as the man leaned closer to him and continued speaking in a spiteful tone. "You locked up my brother, Adrian; he's important to this operation. That doesn't mean I'm willing to go down with him."

Realization hit Reid. _This is Adrian Matthews' brother! I __knew_ _someone else was involved!_ Just as surely and suddenly as that knowledge came, a grimmer awareness followed. _I'm in big trouble here. He obviously wants to make sure no one looks for h__im._ Panic filled Reid and he did the only logical thing he could think of-he bit down on the fingers covering his mouth, drawing blood with his teeth before letting go. The man yelled and sat back, giving Reid the chance to wiggle his arm free and land a solid punch to his chest. The stranger gasped and fell back, freeing Reid's legs in the process. Reid leapt up and grabbed his phone from the table as he ran toward the front door.

Before he registered what happened his face impacted the hardwood, and the hand grasping his ankle pulled viciously. Reid slid across the floor back into the living room, his skin acquiring numerous friction burns along the way. He tried to kick out, or grab at something-anything to slow his velocity. His efforts were wasted, and he stopped sliding when he slammed into the side table with his bad shoulder. He screamed and spots danced in front of him as he tried to control the pain. The man was on him again, sitting on his thighs to hold him down. Reid turned his head to see the man remove a vial from his jacket pocket. _Oh no, not this again! I can't do this again!_

Reid barely had the time to complete his thought when the sharp prick of a needle met the back of his neck. The fiery liquid burned through his veins and made him gasp in shock and pain. After nearly a minute, though, Reid's senses were dull and his nerve endings seemed to be temporarily out of order. _This must be some sort of sedative or tranquilizer. That can't be good._

Adrian's brother flipped Reid over and grinned smugly at him. Reid could feel his eyes darting about, and fuzzy shapes were the only discernable figures he could make out. The words the man was speaking seemed to be coming from inside a wind tunnel, racing past Reid's ears without actually settling long enough for him to process them. He tried to focus on something but the only thing in his line of vision was a pair of icy blue eyes. His breath quickened and his heart pounded, the sound of rushing blood blocked any outside noise. Reid struggled to understand what the man was saying, but the thumping made hearing anything impossible.

Finally something registered in his consciousness: the feeling of hands touching him, raising his shirt. The panic gained control and Reid used all of his remaining strength to fight in whatever way he could. All he actually managed was lifting his hand and wriggling his toes, but it was the best he could do at the moment.

The man was brandishing a knife, waving it close to Reid's face. As it drifted closer, Reid vaguely saw details. _That knife is familiar for some reason_. He blinked a few times and the fog dissipated a small amount. He could just make out dried blood on the hilt. _My blood! _The thought struck him with terrifying clarity. _This is the same knife that Adrian used earlier today. _He wondered briefly how the brother was able to obtain the item from evidence at the police station. Reid's musings were interrupted when he saw the knife swinging toward his torso at an alarming rate. He was completely unable to react, and a searing pain pierced his ribcage. He would have screamed had he been able to breathe. The pressure in his chest prevented this necessary action.

Reid lay on the floor and gasped for air as the man gave him one last evil grin and stood up. The sounds of his apartment being trashed reached his ears, but they were less important than his own raspy breaths. _As long as I can hear myself breathe…_

He was only minutely aware of the man leaving. The fact that he would die if he just laid there penetrated his brain, and he struggled towards his phone lying what had to be miles away in the hall. His pitiful crawl eventually reached his goal, and he scarcely succeeded in dialing 911 before his reserves of strength gave out. Reid collapsed on his side and pressed his good hand over his wound. He concentrated on each breath, hoping it wouldn't be his last.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Take the tissue warning seriously.**

Morgan hurried down the hallway to Reid's apartment. The trip to the pharmacy had taken less time than he thought, but he hated leaving Reid in pain any longer than necessary. As he pulled out his key to the door, he glanced at his watch. Twenty-five minutes. _Not too bad considering the distance. Fortunately there wasn't any traffic or hold-ups along the way. _He entered the dim foyer, pausing only long enough to lock the door behind him and set the alarm.

Morgan moved quickly into the brightly lit living room and slowed his pace as he saw various items littering the floor. His eyes scanned the area for signs of danger or disaster, and they landed on the shaking form of his friend bleeding on the rug near the coffee table. Panic overtook Morgan's brain as he ran to Reid and slid on the wood to kneel next to him. He checked Reid's pulse and found it beating erratically. Reid was wheezing and choking as he struggled for every shallow breath. Morgan frantically searched for his cell phone before he noticed Reid's lying on the floor nearby. He grabbed it and started to dial when he heard a tiny, raspy sound coming from Reid. Morgan leaned in to hear what he was trying to say, but the words were inaudible. Reid's eyes kept glancing to the phone in his hand, and finally it occurred to him to check the recent calls. He discovered that Reid had already called for paramedics, so Morgan busied himself by removing his shirt and pressing it against the obvious stab wound in Reid's chest. The incision was about four inches deep and almost two inches long. It didn't seem to be bleeding as much as Morgan imagined it should be, and he took that to be a good sign.

Reid's free fingers tapped softly against Morgan's knee, and he shifted his position so that he could grasp Reid's blood-soaked hand with one of his own. He gave Reid's fingers a firm squeeze, hoping that somehow comfort and strength would transmit through his touch. Reid hardly moved in response, and Morgan had the sickening feeling that he wasn't doing enough to make a difference.

_Where is that damn ambulance?_

Reid's lips were moving slightly, so Morgan lowered his head to strain for his friend's voice. Again he couldn't make out any words, so he focused on murmuring encouragement for Reid to keep fighting, on putting pressure on the stab wound, and on gently stroking Reid's long, delicate fingers. Time stood still around Morgan, and his entire world condensed into the miniscule space consisting of him, Reid, and the ever-growing pool of blood. Various sounds filtered in and out of his ears, but the only ones he could distinguish were Reid's ragged breaths, his own voice, and the rapid palpitation of his heart. His eyes saw everything in stark contrast: the scarlet liquid against brilliant white cotton, dark brown curls on the light pine, ebony skin next to peach flesh. The smell of copper filled his nostrils, and it wandered down his throat to his tongue, gagging him along the way. The hardness of the floor assaulted his knees while the softness of Reid's skin against his tingled his nerve endings. The feeling of the warm blood coursing between his fingers sent waves of nausea into his stomach.

Suddenly Morgan realized he couldn't hear Reid anymore. He released Reid's hand to check his pulse. Ice-cold terror seized him when he couldn't find it, and he fervently felt around until he could just feel a faint beat. All rational thought left him and he shook Reid anxiously. The ragged breathing had slowed so much that Morgan had to press his cheek against Reid's lips to feel the exhalations.

_Where the hell is that __ambulance? _

Morgan fearfully noticed the blue tinge Reid's skin was developing. His question was finally answered when the apartment door burst open and three medics hurried down the hall, nearly running over their patient in the process. They pushed Morgan to the side and started on Reid immediately. He felt useless sitting and not helping, so Morgan did the only thing he could and grabbed Reid's hand again. He squeezed tightly, silently begging Reid to live. The medics talked loudly around him, and he was sure they asked him questions, but the sounds jumbled up, turning into gibberish in his ears. The words _collapsed lung, chest tube, and oxygen _vaguely connected, and the serious tones spoke volumes. It hit forcefully that Reid was dying right in front of him. The shock knocked him over and he sat awkwardly in the somewhat tacky blood pool. He stared blankly into Reid's unfocused, pain-filled eyes.

The voices and movements around him became disturbingly fast, and he felt Reid's hand slip from his grasp. Morgan looked up to see the medics moving Reid, adjusting his position so they could work better. As he tried to figure out why they hadn't left, the sight of a portable defibrillator made the situation shockingly obvious. Phrases and numbers overwhelmed his brain.

"200."

"Clear!"

"250!"

"Clear!"

As the numbers grew they made less sense, so finally he stopped listening altogether. Instead, he concentrated on watching Reid. His small frame jumped with each electric shock, and it collapsed back onto the floor between jolts. Morgan was morbidly fascinated by the movement, so when it stopped he glanced up in surprise. Abruptly his world expanded and he noticed that the rushed actions and worried voices were considerably slower than when he'd last paid attention. He met the sad eyes of the medics around him, and their expressions answered the question before he started yelling it.

"What's going on? Why are you stopping? What's wrong with you?" He leapt up hurriedly and glared at each one in turn. "Why did you quit working? You have to help him!"

"Sir." One of the medics had a hand on his forearm. "Why don't you sit down on the couch?"

"No! I don't want to sit. I want you to get to work! What the hell's the matter with you people?"

"Sir, please." Strong arms guided him, and he sat heavily on the armchair before he was even aware of it. Kind eyes stared at him and he almost gave in to the urge to punch the person they belonged to. "Sir, look at me please." Morgan lifted his head and the sorrowful gaze knocked him back.

"No." The word was hardly a whisper.

"Is there someone I can call for you?"

"No," a little stronger this time.

"What's your name sir?"

"No!" He pushed forward and forced the medic to back up.

"Sir, please sit down. I'm very sorry sir. Is there anyone that can come over?"

"No! It's not true! It can't be true!" His voice was loud and panicked, but he didn't have the strength to stand. The meaning of the words landed on him all at once, and he felt pinned underneath an impossibly heavy weight. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe even, and the room started to spin.

The pressure holding his head down and the soothing voice in his ear eventually did their job, and he managed to breathe normally. The medic with the sad eyes helped him sit upright again and calmly asked for his wallet. Morgan handed over his badge without thinking and stared blankly at the floor near his feet. The medic stood and moved away, and quiet talking drifted from the hallway. Random words tickled his ears but he didn't consciously process them. Something in his peripheral vision caught his attention, and he turned his head slightly to see it better. A discarded, bloody latex glove. In most contexts the small item would hardly be worth a second look. Now, the underlying implications of it were horrifyingly painful.

_Discarded means it can't be used. Discarded means there's no point in trying. Discarded means..._

His thoughts trailed as his eyes wandered over the area near the glove and rested on the still form of his friend and colleague. The debris scattered around him told a devastating story: the oxygen mask spoke of heroic attempts, the defibrillator conveyed last-ditch efforts, and the blood-soaked shirt screamed his own failure.

He didn't even realize that he was moving until he was staring down at Reid's colorless face. The medics had closed his eyes, and if it weren't for the stillness and bruising Morgan would have thought Reid was asleep. _Just like all of those times we roomed together._ The reality of his loss brought tears to his eyes. Years of memories flashed through his mind, all of them featuring the young face in front of him. He was startled to see shiny drops running down the pallid skin and for a moment his heart soared with the hope that none of the last moments were real, that Reid wasn't really dead, that he hadn't failed to prevent his friend's senseless murder. His fleeting optimism crashed down when he realized that the tears were his own. Unable to contain his sobs, Morgan pressed his forehead against Reid's and cried his agony onto the cold body underneath him.

**Author's note 2: Please don't hate me!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: Sorry folks, but there's no happiness in this chapter either.**

Hotch took the stairs three at a time as his body tried to outrun the thoughts racing around inside his head. Though he'd heard and acknowledged the words spoken by the police chief over the phone and saw the CSU and coroner vehicles outside the apartment building, he refused to accept the truth until he confronted it with his own eyes.

"_I'm sorry Agent Hotchner, but Dr. Reid was killed." _

The sentence echoed continually but each time he responded to it with firm disbelief. _There's been a mistake; it can't be true. When I get there it will all be a misunderstanding. _His confidence in his conclusion moved him to run faster. The sooner he could clear this up the better. He exited the stairwell, barreling past concerned neighbors and harried police officers to reach Reid's apartment. The harsh yellow and black crime scene tape stopped him dead in his tracks and he stood frozen just outside the threshold as his brain reluctantly began to accept what he'd been told. His heart leapt into his throat and cut off his air supply. Hotch staggered backwards until he hit the wall opposite the doorway. He gasped for breath as he stared, unseeing, down the brightly lit hallway. Vivid images of his last time seeing Reid, tired and in pain but very much alive, played repeatedly as he tried to reconcile them with the terrifying vision he was steps away from seeing. _It's not real; it's not real. If I just stay out here it won't be real!_

The absurdity of his thoughts wasn't lost on Hotch, but he tried to prove their validity nonetheless. It was better than accepting the truth. He called up recollections of Reid as if thinking them hard enough would project them into real life. The birthday party at the office, watching Chaplin on Gideon's projector, hours spent at the firing range, more team dinners than he could count-he desperately clung to the memories like lifelines connecting him to his colleague and friend. He refused to acknowledge that these were all in the past tense now.

A firm hand on his shoulder pulled him out of his reverie and he turned to look at Sheriff Jeffery Collins, whom he'd met before on various cases. Sheriff Collins looked at him sympathetically and spoke in a quiet but firm voice.

"Agent Hotchner…"

"Sheriff," he responded dryly. He couldn't force out any other words.

"I'm so sorry, Hotch. I can't imagine how you feel right now…" the Sheriff's voice trailed off sadly. Hotch only nodded, his eyes drifting back to the open door. Sheriff Collins followed his gaze before continuing to speak. "I'm sorry to ask this Hotch, but do you think you could go talk to Agent Morgan? He doesn't seem to be responding to anyone, and we need to get CSU in here soon."

The name registered through the fog filling his brain, and finally Hotch had a purpose. He was team leader and he had a job to do. His personal feelings instantly faded as he thought of how Morgan was handling this horrible situation. The mask of concern slipped on and he spoke crisply to Sheriff Collins.

"Of course. Where is he now?" His eyes roamed the area for his presumably distraught agent.

"He's still in the living room. He hasn't left the…Agent Reid since we arrived."

"Ok," Hotch replied briskly. Having the necessary details, he no longer had time for small talk. He strode quickly through the doorway, ducking under the tape as he went. He continued purposefully toward the living room until the sight that greeted him caught him by surprise. Morgan was on the floor kneeling in a pool of congealing blood next to Reid _no not Reid; Reid's __body!__ Oh god! _Morgan held Reid's hand in his and stroked his face and hair softly. Hotch could see his lips moving but couldn't make out any words. He pushed down the lump in his throat as he watched the heartbreaking scene for a moment. Morgan lifted his head slightly, and the obvious tear tracks spurred Hotch to action.

He rushed over to Morgan's side and knelt down next to him. He put his hand on top of Morgan's and spoke his name softly. When he got no response he upped the harshness just slightly. "Morgan." Dark, stunned eyes turned toward him, and Hotch felt overwhelmed by the grief in them. He struggled to think of something to say but words didn't exist to ease the pain he saw. Morgan spoke first in a raspy, broken voice.

"Hotch, I…he…" he faltered and looked helplessly to Reid. Hotch understood what he was trying to express and nodded in answer. He gently took Morgan's hand from Reid's and held it instead, giving it a firm squeeze. With his other hand he took Reid's restrained fingers and rested them lightly in his own. He deliberately avoided looking at his young colleague's face, knowing that his fragile control would break if he did. He pressed against Morgan's hand again before speaking.

"Morgan, we have to move now. CSU needs to come in, and the coroner has to take… him to the hospital." Hotch was glad he completed the sentence with only one break in his voice. It surprised him that he'd been about to say "the body" as if this were just another case. _Am I really that cold? This certainly isn't any case! This is Reid! _Morgan was silent for a moment as the words sunk in and he nodded. He ran his hand gently over Reid's forehead and closed eyes for a moment before allowing Hotch to help him stand. Hotch grabbed Morgan by the upper arm as he swayed momentarily. He guided him over to the couch and sat him down carefully. Hotch took in Morgan's dirty appearance and the absence of either his or Reid's ready bags. He turned to one of the officers standing nearby.

"Excuse me," Hotch called to catch his attention, and then waved him over when he looked up. "Could you please tell Sheriff Collins that he can send up CSU, and also, there is a black SUV parked out front that belongs to Agent Morgan. Someone needs to retrieve his bag that is in there." The officer nodded and walked off to meet the requests. Hotch turned his attention back to his distressed agent and formulated a plan of action. "Morgan," he spoke softly but firmly, forcing the shocked man to meet his eyes. "Let's go get you cleaned up and changed. CSU will need to take your clothes to check for transfer evidence." He wasn't entirely sure that was true, but he knew it would be the best way to move Morgan to action-let him think he was helping the case.

Morgan nodded mutely and allowed Hotch to help him stand. They walked slowly to the bathroom and Hotch pushed Morgan inside. "Hand me your clothes and I'll give you some clean ones in a minute," he said as he closed the door behind Morgan. The officer returned with the ready bags, and Hotch sifted through them until he found some decent items for Morgan to wear. He knocked on the door and Morgan opened it after a moment but didn't speak. Hotch turned to a nearby CSU officer and asked her to bring an evidence bag to collect the clothes. Once they were secured, Hotch gathered the clean clothes and joined Morgan. He barely kept down the nausea as he watched the blood in the sink from Morgan's arms and hands fade to a sickly pink as it swirled down the sink drain.

Ten minutes later Hotch led a clean but taciturn Morgan back to the living room. He immediately noticed the absence of Reid's body and the arrival of a multitude of plastic markers denoting areas the CSU team thought to be important. Sheriff Collins stood across the room next to the blood-smeared couch watching the proceedings. He approached Hotch and Morgan while carefully maneuvering around the assortment of people in the relatively small space.

"Hotch, is there anything I can do for you?" Sheriff Collins' voice and face both showed extreme sympathy and anger for the loss of a fellow law enforcement officer.

"Actually Jeffery, I need to inform the rest of my team," he paused at the dreadful thought of carrying out the words. "I'd like for someone to pick up a couple of them as I'm not confident they'll be fit to drive themselves."

"Of course, I'll send officers over right away. " He pulled out a notebook and pen and handed the items to Hotch. "Just give me names and addresses for them and I'll take care of it. I have a car waiting downstairs to take you both whenever you are ready."

"Thank you, I appreciate this." Hotch handed back the notebook with three names in it. He was sure that Dave would be calm enough to drive himself. The Sheriff nodded in response as Hotch led Morgan through the maze of people and equipment. As they made a quiet walk to the elevators, Hotch focused his attention on what he needed to do. He had five unpleasant phone calls to make: JJ, Emily, Penelope, David, and Director Warrens. Pain seized his heart as he imagined the horrified reactions of his friends and colleagues. He swallowed hard as he pushed back the onslaught of emotion that threatened to overtake him. _I'm the team leader; I have to hold it together for the others. There will be plenty of time for tears later._

Taking a deep breath and shaking himself a bit to gain composure, he pulled Morgan toward the patrol car sitting outside the front door as he mentally prepared for the worst conversations he'd ever have to participate in.

**Author's note: Due to several requests, a few demands, and one threat, I've decided to expand this a bit more than I originally planned. This was going to be one long, final chapter but instead there will be at least two-probably three-more to come.**

**Thanks for all of your support so far!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: I apologize for the delay. **

**Warnings: This chapter might wander a bit close to the line of being fluffy. I promise not to make a habit of this!**

The day was warm and sunny. The air felt crisp and fresh. Not a single cloud marred the flawlessly blue sky. It was as close to a perfect day as one could get, she thought bitterly. She'd woken up hoping for a downpour, or maybe a hurricane, something dark and terrible to match her mood. The rather morbid thoughts surprised her at first, but she felt entirely justified in her feelings. _After all, it isn't every day you have to bury a close friend. I'm allowed to be miserable._ Misery was something Penelope dealt with on a daily basis but rarely indulged in herself. She was well aware of her role as team cheerleader, the ray of sunshine in the darkness they had to face. Over the past week she'd tried valiantly to keep everyone's spirits up, but today she just didn't have the strength to even pull herself out of the depths of depression.

She thought the outfit would help. Her dress was a bright red, Audrey Hepburn-style design with a white patent leather belt. She wore it with red and white striped heels and large white hoop earrings. Bright red lipstick, red rimmed glassed and white tipped red hair sticks completed the look. This was the only outfit Reid had ever complimented directly, so it was the obvious choice to wear to his funeral. It did nothing to improve her outlook though, as it reminded her of her friend every time she passed a mirror.

She also noticed how Derek wouldn't touch her while she was wearing it. The same thing happened two days ago with Emily's red shirt, and yesterday with her red pajamas. It didn't take a genius profiler to figure out that the color bothered him, and the reason why was painfully obvious to her. However, today was about Reid, and if Derek couldn't deal that was his own problem.

Her hostile thoughts were instantly followed by guilt. Derek had been uncharacteristically withdrawn since the night they all met at the hospital. He didn't shed a single tear the entire time: not while giving his statement to the police, not while listening to Hotch make arrangements to claim the body, not while holding Reid's cold fingers in the morgue. His complete lack of emotion worried her initially, but she realized the shock of the situation hadn't worn off yet. True to form, two nights later he'd busted both fists on his apartment wall and needed almost a dozen stitches. She glanced behind her and sadly took in the bandages covering his hands. Unfortunately that burst of emotion seemed to be all he could manage and he'd only interacted minimally since. It wasn't hard to imagine why; they were all in shock and pain, but Derek had actually witnessed Reid's death. He was the only one that had to reconcile those memories. It hurt enough seeing him at the funeral-she'd refused to corrupt her mind with the images of her sweet boy lying in the morgue-she couldn't comprehend the torment raging in Morgan's head.

Shaking her head to clear away the unpleasant thoughts, she concentrated on walking across the lobby to the elevators. This was the hard part. Even though she'd been staying in Reid's apartment with since it was cleared by Crime Scene Clean-up, the pain always hit anew when she had to walk into the place that smelled like Reid with things that looked like Reid and surfaces that screamed Reid from every inch. His place was the perfect reflection of him and it stabbed her heart to be surrounded by his essence knowing that she'd never see him again.

It truly hit her two nights ago as she, JJ, Emily, and Elle raided Reid's closet to pick out his burial outfit. The four of them fought, cried, argued, cried more and finally settled on the perfect clothes: the black silk boxers Garcia bought him, dark brown cords, a black tee shirt that said "Cerebral stud" Emily had made for his 25th, a brown dress shirt, a black cord jacket and his much-loved purple scarf. The realization that these were the last things he'd wear came hard; she'd cried inconsolably for several hours before she came up with the poster idea and distracted herself.

She took a deep breath as she pushed the button for the fourth floor, and she gripped the poster-sized picture she carried tightly. Five others were scattered around the elevator being held by various team members. She had spent hours scouring her digital camera, newspaper clippings and press releases, magazine articles and BAU security footage to find the perfect stills to display at the funeral. Hotch had an enlarged version of Reid's ID photo, taken when he first joined the FBI and looked extremely young and adorably awkward. JJ's was taken during his 24th birthday party when he was wearing the silly hat and blowing out trick candles with a look of frustration. Emily's showed Reid getting busted showing off his 'physics magic' trick to a newbie, and the surprise and trepidation on his face was priceless. Elle's was taken on the jet and showed Reid's complete confusion at the joke she was telling. Morgan's picture captured a rare moment of anger when he gave Reid the whistle after he failed his gun qualification. Hers was the best of them all of course. It was taken at the bar on Super Bowl Sunday before they'd left for Georgia. Reid was relaxed and trading trivia, and the smile on his face was gorgeous and pure. Each picture made Penelope simultaneously want to smile and sob.

The elevator jerked to a stop and she took a deep breath as the door slid open. Penelope led the group down the hallway, wrinkling her nose at the faint odor lingering in the air. Though the crime scene clean-up crew was thorough in removing the evidence she could swear the smell of copper still leaked from the apartment despite her and Elle's best efforts. As she entered and turned off the alarm, she realized she felt oddly at home. When she'd started staying there five days ago, the sadness overwhelmed any comfort she tried to derive. Now however, it was soothing to be there; it was almost like a haven from the pain-filled real world.

She walked into the living room and gently placed her poster on the floor against the end table. The others spread out and displayed their respective pictures around the room. Rossi set the large take-out bags on the bar and went to the kitchen to gather plates. Penelope felt grateful for them all. As much as she was dreading the task ahead-sorting through all of Reid's things and distributing them according to his wishes-she was thankful that they were doing this as a group. Everyone gathered around the coffee table with food, and Penelope started telling Emily the story behind the whistle incident. Soon they were all laughing and crying and recounting their favorite Reid tales. Morgan was in the middle of explaining to Emily what exactly the "Reid effect" meant when they were startled by the sound of the front door opening. Rossi and Morgan leapt to their feet as Hotch reached for his ankle holster. They remained silent as each one warily watched the entrance to the room. Penelope felt her heart pound as heavy footsteps slowly approached. Then she stared in shock at the figure that came into sight. A quick glance around showed her that the others were as taken aback as she was.

Not surprisingly, Hotch was the first to regain his composure. He stood and met the eyes of the man in front of him. The icy tone in his voice as he spoke stunned and perversely pleased her.

"Jason." The one word conveyed a ton of emotion.

Gideon tipped his head in response and cast saddened eyes around the room. "Hello everyone," he replied quietly.


	5. Chapter 5

Jason anxiously looked at his former team members and friends. He could see the various mixes of emotions in each one's expression: the anger and hurt on some, the sadness and confusions on others. The full range of feelings was there. The only thing he didn't see was the one face he wanted to see most and would never see again. His heart ached at the gaping loss that was stronger now than it had been since he'd gotten the call from the Director.

Other than his simple greeting, he was completely lost for words. He had no idea what to expect from the group gathered, and he didn't know what they'd expect from him. He'd never before felt so entirely out of his depth. He suddenly realized that Hotch was speaking again and he certainly owed him he courtesy of listening.

"...Was wondering if you would come," Hotch said in a cool, slightly indifferent tone. Jason realized that Aaron was telling him that he'd told the Director to find him, and a surge of gratitude swelled in him. It showed that no matter how angry Aaron was, he didn't leave his old friend out of the loop on something this important.

"I've been in the area for a day or two," Jason responded tiredly. "I was at the funeral too, and I saw all of you, but I just couldn't bring myself to approach you there. I didn't know how you'd react and I...I just didn't want to ruin it for you."

"Well, we appreciate that," Morgan's voice dripped with more than a little sarcasm. He seemed ready to say more but a look from David silenced him. _David! I haven't seen him in years! _Jason walked over to Rossi and held out a hand, which David shook to his relief. "I haven't seen you for a while, David."

"Yes, it has been some years hasn't it Jason. It's too bad we have to reacquaint under these circumstances."

"I agree. How long have you been with the team?" Jason wasn't just being polite here. He had no idea David had come out of retirement, and him working with Jason's former team was a huge surprise.

"It's been almost a year now..."

"You would know that if you bothered to keep in touch," Morgan interjected. Garcia swatted him on the arm and he sat back sullenly on the couch while sending Jason a hard glare. Before Jason could reply Hotch spoke up.

"Well you're here now, so that is what matters. We can argue about the past at some other time. We are all here for a reason." _As usual, the voice of logic. _

"He's right sir," Garcia added. "We are getting ready to start sorting out Reid's things. It's good that you are here because he left some to you." Jason smiled slightly at her and crossed the room to sit on the chair next to her. He exchanged sad looks with Prentiss and JJ as they offered him a container of Chinese takeout and chopsticks "in honor of Spence" as JJ put it. The sentiment made him laugh on the outside and scream with pain on the inside. Everyone ate in silence for nearly ten minutes until Morgan broke the tense quiet.

"Why did you do it Gideon?" He needed to add nothing to the question as all of the unspoken words were obvious. Jason knew exactly what he wanted and had been dreading this moment since he left his cabin over a year ago. He sighed deeply and set down his food to look Morgan squarely in the eye.

"I had to, Derek. I know you don't understand; I don't expect you to understand. I had to make a clean break. Saying goodbye would have made it so hard that I probably couldn't have gone through with it. I didn't want to hurt you, any of you," he looked around the room as he spoke, "but that was the only way." _wow, this is harder than I ever imagined it would be! I just want to make sure they know my intentions._

"Why did you only leave a letter for Spence?" JJ asked curiously.

"Because I knew that he'd have the hardest time understanding. I knew he would need an explaination in order to cope. You know how he is-was-he had to know everything..." he paused to collect himself for a moment before continuing. "I didn't want him to blame himself or think he could have done more. I hope he realized that."

"He did," Emily said confidently. Jason looked at her curiously as did a few others. "We talked about it, a couple of weeks after you left. He didn't understand at first, and was definitely angry for a while. The day after we talked he came up to me and thanked me. He said that he had figured it out, and he seemed like he was at peace with everything that had happened."

At least until that case with Owen," Morgan stated sadly. The tone in Morgan's voice and the expressions on the other's faces filled Jason with worry.

"What happened?"

Hotch took up the story in condensed form. "We had a case: this kid who'd been bullied in school went on a killing spree. He used his girlfriend as a hostage of sorts. He ended up coming to the police station heavily armed and intent on going down in a hail of bullets." When Hotch stopped there Jason nearly jumped out of his seat.

"What happened then?" He knew all too well that the subject of bullying hit close to home for Reid and he could only imagine the young man's reaction to such an event.

"Reid stood in front of him, talked him into surrendering. He nearly got shot." Emily's tone was matter-of-fact but her eyes betrayed how intense the situation had been at the time. Jason shook his head in amazement and relief that he hadn't been there.

"How was he when it was over?"

"He knew that what he did was reckless, that he got too emotionally involved in the case and let that get the better of him. I know that he couldn't help but identify with Owen, but I had to make it clear that he couldn't behave like he did in the future.I think he came to terms with everything by then anyway." Hotch spoke authoritatively enough to convince Jason that his words were close to the truth. He nodded his head in agreement with Hotch's statement and decided to move the conversation forward. He turned toward Garcia as he spoke.

"So you said we have things to go through?" She nodded wearily and met his gaze.

"Yeah, Hotch and Rossi cleaned out his desk the other day, so we have all of that plus whatever is here. The lease is paid on this place for another two months so we don't have to hurry but we all agreed that the sooner we do this the better."

"I agree. Maybe while we get started you all can fill me in on the case?"

"Huh," Morgan scoffed as he helped JJ and Emily gather up leftovers. "That won't take very long. We've got nothing so far."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: I hope this chapter doesn't feel too rushed. I'm bring things to a head soon.**

**A/N #2: Everyone, meet Adrian Matthews. ;)**

Jason kept his head down as he hurried through the hallways around the bullpen at the BAU

Jason kept his head down as he hurried through the hallways around the bullpen at the BAU. He really didn't want to run into any former colleagues or friends other than his former team members, and all of them were away on a case. All but the one he was rushing to meet in her office. His visitor's pass bounced awkwardly against his chest and the friction felt strange. It was weird to be considered a "visitor" in this place he once called home. _It was my own doing though, and it was what I wanted, _he reassured himself.

Upon reaching his destination, he took a deep breath before knocking loudly. The singsong "Come in" met his ears and he pushed the door open quickly. His eyes briefly roamed the familiar chaos of bright pens, colorful dolls, and Garcia herself. The sight was warmly comforting, but he swiftly moved his focus to the reason for his visit.

"Garcia," he greeted anxiously. "What do you have for me?"

"Ok, first of all," she spoke as she spun her chair around to face him. "I don't have any information for you on the case that I'm not investigating because our team isn't allowed to work on because of conflict of interest." She narrowed her eyes pointedly at him to ensure he understood. He smiled slightly and nodded.

"I understand."

"Good. Now then," she turned away and clicked a few keys. "I've made some interesting discoveries-on my personal time-that you'll find very useful. It turns out that our former Unsub, Adrian Matthews, has an older brother with a different name. Alex Johns." As she said both names pictures appeared on two of the multiple screens surrounding the desk. "The house we found Adrian in is deeded in his name, which is why we didn't know to look for a brother. But I, being the goddess of all knowledge, have found the no-good creep anyway."

The puzzlement came through in his tone. "Garcia, why do I care about this?"

"Because former Boss Man," she patiently explained, "this tech goddess has been running facial Recognition software of her own brilliant design on security footage from Reid's apartment building around the time of the attack…" Her voice trailed off momentarily before she picked up the tale again. "This scumbag matches the only unaccounted for person to enter the building within three hours. Everyone else is a registered lessee' or is an invited visitor or delivery person, leaving Mr. Johns here as our most likely candidate as Reid's attacker."

"But," Jason found himself at a loss for a reply to this unexpected information. Garcia continued before he had figure out a response.

"Also, I have him on security cams getting off at Reid's floor about 35 minutes before the 911 call, but I have no tape of him after he leaves through the stairwell, which happens at almost the same time as Reid's call. However, there are employee exits that lead off the stairs so it's likely that he left the building through one of those. Now here's where things get a bit sticky." Garcia tapped a few keys and a legal document appeared. "Mr. Johns is dead."

"Excuse me?" Gideon felt his head spinning with the abundance of contradictory information.

"This is his death certificate, filed the day after Reid was murdered. An "accident" is the official COD."

'But how then..."

"Hold on a sec," Garcia interjected. "In my expert opinion this is a forgery. Before you ask how I know, it seemed too coincidental that he died the same day as Reid, being the main suspect and all. So, I did some digging and found that the coroner who signed the certificate doesn't really exist."

"Really?" Jason was having trouble keeping up with the twists this story was taking.

"Yep, so that still leaves Mr. Johns as our main suspect. Unfortunately, his false demise leaves us with no way to trace him yet, but you can bet your buns I'll find a way to track his sorry butt somehow. Just give me a bit more time and I'll have him." Garcia leaned back in her chair with a smug smile on her face and sad tears in her eyes. Jason's brain finally kicked into gear and the information began processing rapidly.

"But what does this all have to do with Adrian Matthews?" Jason asked as he indicated the image. "I don't understand the connection."

"That's because you weren't here for that case-be glad. Adrian was a real piece of work, killed a bunch of people in terrible ways, that sort of thing. The connection is that we busted him the morning of the attack. Reid actually put the final piece together and they took him down for more than two dozen murders among other things."

The light bulb flashed in his mind as the parts began coming together. "So Alex is angry that his brother gets arrested…so he kills Reid? Where's the justification? What is his motive? Killing Reid doesn't get his brother out of jail. No, we're missing something, some other reason."

"Sorry, sir; information I can give you. Motive and feelings aren't my specialty."

"No, no that's fine Garcia. You did great. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now find that SOB and make sure you give him my regards." Jason nodded as he ran to Hotch's office, only remembering that Hotch was gone when he reached the locked door. With a low growl of frustration, he dashed to the break room and closed the door behind him. He grabbed his cell phone and dialed Hotch. He started speaking rapidly as soon as Hotch answered.

"Aaron, its Jason. Can you talk now?" When Hotch replied affirmatively, he rushed on. "Garcia has identified someone for us. What can you tell me about the Adrian Matthews case?" He listened intently as Hotch gave him a rundown of the details. He frowned as he realized that things still weren't adding up. "What do you think could be his motive? I'm not hearing anything that makes sense…Ok, talk to the others and see what you come up with. I'm going to pay a visit to Mr. Matthews personally and see if he can give us some ideas….Yes, I'll be cautious. I realize this is off the books…yes I'll keep you informed. If anyone asks you don't know anything about this…Ok, goodbye Aaron." Armed with a purpose, he sprinted back to Garcia's office to find out where exactly Adrian Matthews was imprisoned.

The door to the visitor's room buzzed loudly, signaling the entrance of the prisoner. Jason glanced up to see an attractive young man with cold blue eyes and a haughty smile. He knew better than most that anyone was capable of committing a crime, but he found it difficult to reconcile the person in front of him with the crime scene photos and case file details he'd looked over during the flight. A wave of sadness covered him as he recognized that this young man's life was over and he'd never see the outside of a jail cell again. _What a waste-two young lives gone just like that!_

He forced his mind to focus as Adrian sat across from him. He'd been in this situation hundreds of times, interviewing the worst of humanity. Somehow, though, this was different. This was personal and painful and he wanted answers.

"Thank you for meeting with me." His usual interview tone-slightly warm but indifferent-was firmly in place.

"FBI, right?" Adrian's voice was partly amused, partly irritated. "You guys aren't through with me yet? I told you where the bodies are buried." The teasing grin and wink that accompanied the statement made Jason's blood boil. He managed to keep the anger masked however. "Are you here for more details? Do you want to know more about my skinning technique?"

"Actually, I have some questions concerning your brother Alex." He felt a flutter of satisfaction when Adrian's self-assured look disappeared. He knew that catching him off-guard would help tremendously with getting the information he needed.

"What about Alex?" The tone was hostile and the hard glare matched it perfectly.

"I was just wondering what reason he would have for killing an FBI agent." _No point in wasting time here. _Adrian's eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

"What are you talking about? Alex didn't kill any FBI agents!"

"Actually, he did." Jason managed to lay out a few pictures without looking at them. "Do you know why he would want to kill my agent?" _Ok, so he technically isn't "mine" anymore but that isn't important here._

"I told you, Alex didn't kill any agents. He may have helped me out with a few of my toys but he didn't like it. He would never kill just because. You've got the wrong guy." While Adrian meant his words to be a defense of his brother, Jason inferred a message behind them. _I wonder if he wanted me to know that his brother helped him cover up what he did. This is good. Maybe I can push him into telling me more._

"Do you recognize this?" Jason laid a picture of the discarded murder weapon in front of Adrian. He honestly had no idea if Adrian could identify the knife, but he was gratified to see recollection in his eyes. "You do, don't you?" No response. "I bet you used this knife dozens of times in your own kills. In fact, I think it was entered as evidence against you before it mysteriously disappeared from the police station the night you were arrested. So tell me who else would want this knife. Who else would know how important it was and make sure the police couldn't find it? Who else would have it in their possession to use in the murder of a government agent?" Jason deliberately hardened his tone with each question.

Adrian's gaze moved between the photos, confusion evident on his face. Jason waited nearly two full minutes, letting the tension and silence build before speaking softly.

"We know he did it Adrian. We just don't know why."

"Why don't you go ask him then?" He was back to the defiant tone.

"We aren't sure where to find him. I was hoping you might have an idea about that too." Adrian let out a disgusted snort and pushed away the photos.

"Bastard didn't even stick around to see if I'd be ok. He hasn't been in to see me once. It's been more than **three **weeks, and he hasn't even called! He's probably gotten James to set him up with a place, a new identity and everything. He's not willing to take the heat with me now that things have gone badly." Jason leaned forward eagerly, hoping Adrian's rant would reveal more answers. When Adrian didn't continue, Jason gently prodded him.

"Who's James?"

"His pal in the police station. I bet that's how he got the knife-**my** knife. James tipped Alex off to the FBI being on the case. Smart money says he knows how to find Alex."

"How did James know that the FBI was on the case?" Jason was carefully to keep his voice calm and friendly despite the flurry of emotion swirling around inside him.

"He was working the case. Well," he snorted in derision, "not _working_ it exactly. He is probably the one that took your evidence." He waved his hand dismissively toward the picture of the knife. "He was supposed to keep you off of our tails, but I guess you guys were better than he thought you would be." Adrian paused for a moment before continuing in a quiet voice. "I probably should have listened to the jerk when he said you were getting close. I might not be here now."

"Where would James send Alex?"

"Who the hell knows? James has places all over the country, some he owns legally and some he's just taken. He has access to fake IDs, passports, the whole works. If he and Alex want to hide, they can. It'll take you years to find them, assuming they don't keep moving." Jason couldn't help but wonder why Adrian didn't take advantage of this friend also instead of possibly facing consecutive life sentences.

"So you have no ideas about how we could find them?"

"No, and even if I could tell you I wouldn't. I have my loyalty even if my brother chooses to ignore his."

"That's understandable, but do you think its fair for you to be here alone while he's out living the good life."

"Yes, I think its ok. I did what I did with no regrets and this is my consequence. I'm living with that. There's no reason we should both be locked up. Besides, I couldn't tell you how to find him if I wanted to, which I don't."

"What about James? Can you tell me anything about him?"

"No. I'm done talking about this. If you want to talk about me then we can continue. Otherwise this conversation is finished."

As frantic as Jason was to run off and find Alex or James, the profiler in him couldn't resist the opportunity to learn more about this notorious but relatively unknown serial killer. It was unlikely that Adrian would present this chance again. _Who knows-maybe he'll let something else useful slip._

"What about you? I thought you said you told us everything. Are there more murders that we don't know about?"

"Well," Adrian said slowly as he leaned toward Jason conspiratorially. "I'll just say I didn't tell you guys where **all** of the bodies are buried." The sly grin made Jason wince internally.

"How many more are there?"

"How many did you find?" Jason quickly ran his mind over the case files Garcia had given him yesterday evening on his way to the airport.

"27." Adrian nodded approvingly.

"That's good. I didn't expect you to get that close."

"How close are we Adrian?"

"Well, Agent Gideon," Adrian placed emphasis on Jason's title. "I'd say you're off by a handful or two." Jason was careful not to let his surprise and disgust show in his features.

"Impressive," Jason replied sincerely. "So how do we find these others?"

"You don't." Jason raised an eyebrow but Adrian continued talking. "I have no intention of telling you where they are. I just want you all to know that I've accomplished more than you can imagine."

At that moment, Jason realized that Adrian just wanted recognition for his work and that trying to discern any valuable information was futile. Maybe in a few years they could try to set up a real custodial interview, but for now Jason had better things to do.

"I think we are done here. Thank you again for meeting me." _No sense in burning any bridges with him._

"What you don't want to know how I killed the others, what my childhood was like, nothing?"

"Not currently, no. We'll get back to you about setting up an official interview some other time." With that Jason left Adrian cuffed to the chair in the visitor's room. No sooner had he exited the prison and hailed a cab did his cell phone ring. He answered the unfamiliar number irritably. He was anxious to start the search for Alex, and he felt incredibly frustrated at the lack of leads there were to follow.

"Hello."

"Gideon?" The voice sounded worried and angry simultaneously.

"Elle? What's wrong?"

"Garcia told me you have a lead to follow. What's happening? I can't reach the others."

"They're on a case in Seattle. I'm just leaving ADX Florence. I was interviewing Adrian Matthews, and he unknowingly gave me a tip to follow. I'm going to have to play it smart though; the guy's a cop."

"Let me help. I can fly into Colorado Springs."

"I don't know Elle. This is completely off the books and I don't want too many people involved. I haven't told the others what's going on yet."

"Whatever happens Gideon I want in. I'm willing to take the risk." Jason felt a small smile creep over his face despite the situation. _I should have known that she'd respond that way. The rest would too, of course, but I can't have them risk their careers._

"Ok, call me with your flight information and I'll pick you up. We have some work ahead of us."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note: I apologize for the long wait. The muse has been a bit sidetracked lately. I also apologize for the short chapter, but I needed a transition. Thanks to LT for the boost! :)  
**

* * *

"Jason," Hotch answered his cell phone anxiously. Three days had passed since he heard from Gideon, and their last conversation was less than reassuring.

"Aaron," Gideon's tired voice responded. "We found him, this morning. He's still here in Colorado Springs."

Hotch felt a surge of varying emotions rush through him: anger, relief, sadness, elation, worry. He'd been uneasy upon learning of Gideon and Elle's plan to hunt down Alex, and his concern grew knowing that they'd been successful. "So what is your next plan of action?" The momentary hesitation twisted his insides.

"We're going to...talk to him," Gideon replied simply.

"And," Hotch questioned?

"He can't get away with this Aaron," Gideon stated firmly. "Reid deserves better."

"While that may be true Jason, I don't want either of you do behave in a way that you'll regret. Just think about what you're doing."

"We know what we're doing. We've planned this out carefully."

"Planned what out?"

"That's really all that you need to know Aaron. We've got this under control.'

"Jason what…" Hotch queried in his best 'team leader' voice.

"Don't worry about it Aaron. Just know that he won't go unpunished. Now, you have no knowledge of this, and if anything goes wrong we acted alone."

"But Jason I…"

"Aaron, listen to me. I want you, all of you, to stay away from this. I can't have you suffering any ill affects from my actions. You have careers to think about."

"But, what about you, and Elle? You have to think of yourselves too."

"I have nothing worth losing Aaron. This is more important to me than anything else. I tried to talk Elle out of being involved, but she is willing to accept the risks. Before you say anything, I know you all would be also, but just, please leave this to us. We both have a lot less to lose. Besides, you know as well as I do that the fewer people involved the better."

As much as Hotch hated to agree, Jason was right. He had a pretty clear idea of what Jason and Elle were planning to do, and he didn't entirely disagree with it. He also knew this wasn't something that they could to complicate or mess up. There was a lot of potential for mistakes. He let out a resigned sigh.

"Ok, Jason. I won't get involved, but please let me know if you need anything. I don't want you to get in trouble for this either."

"I appreciate the offer Aaron, but I really can't have you any closer to this than you are already. You could be implicated with what you know, or at least suspect, now. I'm serious, Aaron. Stay away from this until things settle down."

"Jason…" he struggled to find words to fit his emotions. "Just, be careful, both of you."

"We will. I'll call you when everything is finished. Goodbye Aaron."

"Goodbye Jason." He closed his phone and stared at it for a few moments. The conversation played repeatedly as he inferred Gideon's intentions from unspoken words. The lawyer and Federal Agent in him screamed that this was wrong, that vigilante justice wasn't the way to handle things. However, the bereaved team leader and friend wanted vengeance.

After a few more minutes of thought, he realized that the decision wasn't his to make anyway. The only thing he could do was hope for a positive outcome-at least, as positive as one could hope for in this situation. _Whatever happens, it won't bring Reid back. _The painful reminder struck him along with the realization of how many lives could be ruined if things went wrong. The senselessness of it made his heart ache with grief and his head spin with disbelief.

Finally, he shook himself out of his morbid reverie and left his office to watch his remaining team members working in the bullpen. It both amused and saddened him that JJ had taken to working at Reid's desk most of the time. He'd noticed that Garcia came out of her cave more frequently, and he himself spent less time holed up in his office. Even David started associating more with the younger agents, who in turn spent hours regaling him with Reid stories. The team was closing ranks, coming together to support each other. A swell of pride filled him as he realized that, somehow, they were surviving this terrible ordeal, and he had no doubt that they were stronger for it. It didn't quite shake his anxiety, though, and he fervently hoped that they wouldn't have to face anything else like this again. _Please be careful, Jason and Elle, _he thought nervously._ I'm not sure we can handle any more trauma._


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note: I apologize for the delay. **

**Credits: The title to the story, the closing lines, and a lot of inspiration came from "When I'm Gone" by 3 Doors Down.**

**Warning: The end of this chapter might be a bit fluffy/sappy. Oh well, I've accepted that, and I hope you can too! :) ****You might also need tissues again.**

**--**

The bright grass glistened in the late morning sun. A soft breeze rustled the trees and carried the scent of perfumed flowers of all varieties. The cheerful songs of several species of birds filled the air; they were the only sounds breaking the somber silence apart from an occasional sob. It seemed to Morgan that the birds were taunting him, rubbing their carefree joy smugly in his face. He shot hateful glares at them, but they happily continued singing. He couldn't help but wonder what they had to be so cheerful about. _If they had to live like us they wouldn't be so happy,_ he thought bitterly. He looked back at the shiny bronze marker lying innocently against its brilliant green background. The black inscribed words hurt his eyes and heart every time he read them: Spencer Reid, PhD, October 12, 1981-July 16, 2008, Dearly Loved and Deeply Missed.

Seeing the name transported Morgan back to his last moments with his friend. He kept thinking about when Reid was alive and teasing him, then seeing his lifeless body on the floor of his apartment less than an hour later. His view of the plaque clouded with tears as visions of Reid's blood danced through his mind and sounds of Reid's last raspy breaths rang in his ears. The pleasantly warm day suddenly felt too hot, and the fragrant air pressed heavily against him. He felt dizzy and nauseous, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the painfully bright light. He vaguely heard his name within the noise swirling around him, but the voice was too distorted to recognize. Gentle fingers touched his face and carefully wiped the small tears that had leaked out. Soft words finally reached his ears, and he could hear Garcia whispering words of comfort. The words themselves were meaningless but the emotion behind them broke through the fog of grief enveloping him. He glanced down at her tear-stained face and gave a weak imitation of his usually dazzling smile.

"Hey Baby Girl," he said quietly.

"Hey there Hot Stuff," she replied. "The others are headed this way, and Gideon and Elle will be here in a few minutes."

"Ok." He straightened his shoulders and forced himself to look at anything other than the grave he stood beside. He took the opportunity to examine the cemetery around him. When they'd come to Quantico National Cemetery after Reid's funeral, he'd been too consumed with pain to notice anything. Now he got a chance to see just how beautiful the place was. Woods bordered the grounds, and large Dogwood trees sat strategically throughout the area. Reid's section was for flat markers, but in the distance, he could see the upright granite and marble headstones. The contrast of rows of light-colored stones against the manicured grass was breathtakingly beautiful yet unbelievably sad.

As he completed his study of the area, he glimpsed his team members approaching. JJ carried two dozen yellow roses. Hotch held a tiny digital camera; Emily had a card and some pens. Rossi walked a couple of steps behind them with his hands in his pockets. The group exchanged small smiles. JJ passed out roses as Garcia reached for the card. "Who's this for Sweetie," she asked as she pulled open the envelope?

"It's for us to send to Reid's mom," Emily replied as she handed Garcia a pen. Morgan and Garcia both looked surprised at the statement so she continued. "Hotch spoke to her nurse, and they thought it would be ok if we all wrote her something nice about Reid."

"Oh, ok then," Garcia replied. She planted a soft kiss on her flowers and gently placed them next to the grave marker, and then she took the card and pen over to the nearby bench. The others followed her after placing their own flowers. Morgan asked how the staff would explain the lack of letters from Reid himself.

"The nurse I spoke with said that they would keep recycling his old letters. They think that those, along with all the newspaper articles they have, will be enough to keep her from noticing the difference. They don't want to tell her unless it's necessary."

"Well that's understandable. There's no sense in upsetting the poor woman," Garcia responded. She capped the pen and held up the card for someone else to sign. JJ took it and sat down to write. Morgan suddenly remembered the camera, and he turned toward Hotch.

"Hey Hotch, what's with the camera?" He frowned as he noticed the slightly uncomfortable look on his team leader's face. "What is it?"

"I've been in contact with William Reid," he stated simply. Morgan felt a flame of anger rise in him at the mention of Reid's father. He saw similar looks of shock and resentment on JJ and Garcia's faces.

"What? Why?" Morgan was too upset to yell anything else.

"He's Reid's next of kin," Hotch answered in a tone that showed how little respect he held for that title. "He had the right to know his son was killed."

"He had no rights!" Morgan yelled in return. "He gave those up when he walked out."

"That's not for us to say Derek," Rossi supplied quietly.

Morgan turned to him in fury. "How can you say that? You don't even know the whole story!"

"Neither do you, Derek," Hotch said firmly. "We've only ever seen one side of things, and we can't make judgments on that."

"Like hell we can't!"

"Sweetie, take it easy," Garcia whispered as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "There's no use in getting upset."

"Besides, he's right Morgan," JJ supplied. "Even Reid didn't know why his dad left. We can at least find out the reason." She tipped her head in Hotch's direction as she spoke.

"Ok, what did he have to say for himself," Morgan asked bitterly?

"We didn't really talk about that, but he did seem regretful that he lost all of those years with Reid. I think the realization that he can't make that up now hit him hard."

"As it should," Emily muttered softly. Morgan nodded in agreement.

"Look guys, I know that it's easy to hate him, to be angry, but we've all made mistakes. Trust me; I know a lot about regret." That startling statement from Hotch slapped Morgan, and he realized that he might have been a tiny bit unfair. _Only a little unfair though…_

"Me too," an unexpected voice added. "I know what it's like to have something come between you and your child." Morgan looked up in surprise. He hadn't even heard Gideon and Elle come over. He noted the somber look in Gideon's eyes and equated it with the pain-filled tone of voice he used.

"Hey you guys," Garcia called to them as she walked over to hug Elle, who also had a rather haunted expression displayed.

"How did things go?" Emily asked hesitantly. They were all aware of what probably happened in Colorado. Morgan not-so-secretly supported the idea.

Neither responded for a moment, then Gideon sighed as Elle spoke. "Things went as planned," she said simply. There was no need for further explanation. Though Morgan couldn't help wanting a few details, he knew better than to press the issue for now. A slightly awkward silence prevailed for a few minutes, then Elle broke it by inquiring about the card. Upon hearing whom it was for, she took it eagerly. She smiled slightly, prompting Morgan to ask what she found amusing.

"I was just thinking about how much Reid looked like her," she said sadly. "I know that we only met her once, but somehow I feel connected to her."

"Well, she did come through for us," JJ replied, "just like Reid always did." They all smiled at that. She then turned to Hotch again. "So what happens to her now?"

This time Gideon answered. "Reid set up a fund for her, and all of his savings went into it when he died. Also, he had a good life insurance policy, so she'll be able to continue her care the way he wanted. You know, that was a big selling point for him to join the Bureau."

"That reminds me Jason, how did you get Reid into the BAU?" Rossi asked curiously.

"You've never heard the story?" Gideon replied. Rossi shook his head. "Well, he was eighteen and finishing up his second PhD. I gave a guest lecture in his Abnormal Psychology class. He was typical Reid-asking questions, quoting from my books. He was obviously younger than the others since it was a graduate-level class. I asked him to stay after so I could talk to him. We ended up going out for coffee. He told me about his degrees and his upcoming thesis defense. He was thinking about going for a third either in psychology or economics. I started telling him about the BAU and he was really interested. Of course, I knew there was no way to get him in so early, but I encouraged him to think about pursuing psychology if this was something he really wanted…" Gideon's words trailed off as memories played across his face. After a moment he continued the story.

"I left him my card. He called me a few weeks later, told me that his thesis was accepted. He also said that he'd researched the BAU, and the Bureau in general, and he felt that was somewhere he could really be useful. He decided to get his Doctorate in psychology to give him a better understanding of the field. He had enough scholarship money to stay at Princeton, but he wanted to apply for an internship at the Bureau, so he was debating moving to Georgetown. I suggested he try for the internship first, then decide where to go to school. As you already know, he got the position and moved to D.C. When he turned twenty I started talking to the Director about making an exception for him to enter the Academy. It probably wouldn't have worked if he hadn't been so far along in his thesis work. When the Director and other Section Chiefs looked over his research and published works, they realized what I was saying all along. They agreed he could enter the Academy at 21, and if he passed he could join the BAU under my direct supervision." Gideon paused again, and Morgan took the time to digest all the information. Some of it he knew already, but some parts were new to him. He couldn't help but be amazed at what Reid accomplished at such a young age, and saddened that he wouldn't get to do more. Morgan shook himself out of those dark thoughts when he realized that Gideon was speaking again.

"After Boston, I was concerned about what would happen to Reid while I was on leave. I really thought that they'd knock him back down to analyst level and he'd have to start over. Fortunately Aaron," he looked at Hotch as he spoke, "agreed to let him join his team until I returned. The rest you already know. By the way Aaron, I never thanked you for that."

"For what," Hotch asked?

"For trusting my judgment. I know you mostly agreed as a favor to me, and I appreciate that more than you know."

"It was no problem Jason, you know that. It turned out to be one of the better decisions I've made, so I think I came out pretty good on that deal." Hotch's slight smile and teasing tone made everyone laugh.

"Yeah, there's nothing like having your own gorgeous, talking encyclopedia to take with you on cases," Emily commented, and the group laughed even harder.

"Even if he could quote all of your books to the degree that it gets on your nerves," Rossi added with a smile. A memory of the twenty minute monologue Reid treated him to when they learned Rossi would be on the team played in Morgan's head. He'd teased Reid about his hero worship, but in reality it was nice to see that even a genius had someone to look up to.

"Or, that he could give you the entire history of football-complete with statistics-but not understand a minute of the actual game," JJ said with tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Or, that he could have a PhD in physic but not understand the concept of trick candles," Elle chimed in.

"How about the fact that he could make rockets out of film canisters on his desk, yet he somehow always managed to overfill the coffee pot," Garcia supplied through tears. As the laughter calmed down, they all unconsciously glanced toward "Reid's area" as they now called it. As Morgan's eyes appreciated the contrast of the yellow, green, and bronze, something triggered in his memory.

"Hey, Hotch, you never did say why you brought the camera. I assume you wanted a picture of the marker?"

Hotch looked at the camera in his hand for the first time since they arrived at the cemetery. "Yeah, I did. I was also thinking it would be nice to get a shot of all of us near it. I'm sending these to William, and to the staff at Bennington."

They agreed, and Hotch flagged down a worker to take the photos. After talking for a while longer, the group disbanded. Elle had to get back to New York for work, Hotch had to pick up Jack for the weekend, and JJ headed to catch her flight to New Orleans. Rossi left with them, and Emily followed a few minutes later. Garcia said goodbye to Gideon and kissed Morgan on the cheek before she left to meet up with Kevin.

Morgan sat on the bench beside Gideon. Neither of them spoke, but he could almost feel the grief radiating from Gideon. He was aware that part of that pain came from guilt. He was also aware that he hadn't helped the situation by yelling at Gideon the first chance he got. He decided to offer the small comfort that he could.

"He understood, Gideon," he stated simply. Gideon didn't respond but Morgan knew he heard the words. "He may not have liked the way you did it, but he knew why you had to leave."

"I shouldn't have….I should have thought it through some more. I knew about the letter his father left. Why did I do the same thing? I shouldn't have left like that."

"Maybe you shouldn't have, but it's over now. There's no use beating yourself up over it. Reid spent almost ten years living with guilt for getting help for his mom, but he did what he had to do. You did what you had to do. He got that, Gideon." He watched Gideon wipe a tiny tear from the corner of his eye.

"Yeah, you're right Morgan. I know that. I just feel terrible that his last memory of me was unpleasant. I'd do anything to change that but I can't." Gideon stood and stretched. "One positive side to this is that I've reconnected with my own son, Stephen. I've learned that life is too short for anger and resentment." Morgan nodded his agreement with a lump in his throat.

"That's great, Gideon, really. I hope things work out." He shook Gideon's proffered hand. "I guess I'll see you around sometime."

"Yeah, I'll be back. You guys won't see the last of me anytime soon."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it." He watched as Gideon took a last look at Reid's grave before he left the cemetery.

Morgan sat on the bench staring at the bronze marker as his entire history with Reid ran through his mind. Tears rolled down his face as he recalled the laughter, the frustrations, the statistics, the random quotes and endless rambles. The late afternoon sun faded into dazzling colors, then to dim blue lighting with several tiny stars peaking out. He noted that the area where he sat was lit by an ornate streetlamp. _How appropriate, _he thought; _Reid didn't like the dark, and 'his area' will always have light. _For some reason that he couldn't quite identify, the thought lifted a weight from his heart. He suddenly felt that he could cope with the loss of his friend. Of course he didn't like it, but now he could deal with it. He stood and stared at Reid's name glistening in the moonlight. He reached down and ran his fingers over the letters, memorizing the feel of each one. He stood up and took a final look around before slowly walking down the gravel path. The night air was cool, and he heard the sounds of crickets chirping in the distance. Unlike the birds from the morning, he didn't begrudge their singing. Instead, it provided a soothing backdrop for the journey to his car. He glanced up at the clear, dark sky and the tiny, bright stars, and he could almost hear Reid pointing out constellations to him.

When he started the car, a song he'd been playing a lot recently came on, and he couldn't help but relate to the sentiment behind them. _"__Roaming through this darkness, I'm alive but I'm alone. Part of me is fighting this, but part of me is gone. So hold me when I'm here, right me when I'm wrong. Hold me when I'm scared, and love me when I'm gone."_

**Author's note 2: I took some liberties with Reid's back story as we don't have all of those details.Thanks to everyone who supported this little detour. This ended up diffrently than I originally planned it, but I'm mostly happy with the results. **


End file.
